


24 Hours

by takenbynumbers



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: M/M, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28260834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbynumbers/pseuds/takenbynumbers
Summary: Twenty-four hours is not nearly long enough for what Tseng has in mind but he will take what he can get.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	24 Hours

Tseng is going through his notes at his desk when he comes to the startling realisation that Rufus has steadily been adding to everyone’s workload, but not his own. Maybe it’s because of his near-death experience at the hands of the Remnants (in fairness it was only one of _many_ ). Or maybe he’s starting to doubt Tseng’s ability as Director. Either way he is torn between conflicting feelings of begrudging gratitude at being able to just _sit_ and be in one place for a few hours and fear of being cast aside. He has nowhere to be, and nothing to do. It has unsettled him and he finally heads outside in search of _someone_ to talk to.

Rufus has upgraded from a wheelchair to a cane, and he’s leaning slightly on it as he talks to Elena. He’s recovered from his injuries and Geostigma, but he uses the cane as a way of giving the appearance he’s weaker. It’s a smart ploy that makes him seem more relatable to anyone who doesn’t know his true nature. Tseng knows him almost better than he knows himself.

It has been longer and longer in between their intimate encounters, ever since Rufus became President. Adverted apocalypse notwithstanding, Tseng is finding it harder and harder to approach him – mindful initially of his sustained injuries from the blast, followed by his kidnapping, and then the disease. He could never see him as fragile, but something has changed between them.

“Ah, you’re here. Good.” Tseng nods to Elena in passing and she flashes him a grin, saluting as she saunters off.

“Where are you sending Elena to?” he asks quietly, watching her depart. She’s become a close confidant and he could almost see them becoming something more if his heart didn’t already belong to another. Even entertaining the possibility feels like betrayal in his mind.

“She’s checking up on a few things with Tuesti. Don’t worry, everyone’s occupied for a few days,” Rufus replies, shooting him a quick smile. Tseng frowns, looking away to gaze at the waterfall. It’s a tranquil place that makes him grateful to be alive. Or he should be more grateful. Everything feels stagnant all at once.

“Except me. Why haven’t you given me an assignment?”

Rufus doesn’t say a word, just turns and heads back to the building. It’s not until he’s at the steps does he turn to answer.

“Come with me.”

Sighing, Tseng follows him back inside, noting the silence around them. It’s unnerving to not have Reno around, much less Rude and Elena. Even the other employees who filter in and out to see Rufus have all seemingly disappeared.

“We have all day and night to talk and I think it’s about time we did. Preferably over a few drinks. Loosen up that tongue of yours.”

  
Tseng chuckles at that. He’s never been able to hold his alcohol well, especially compared to Rufus. Although they’ve all used it as a crutch at some point over the past two years, if only to get some semblance of sleep.

He sits down on the couch and watches as Rufus brings them two glasses of champagne. He would help if he didn’t think it wouldn’t be met with an immediate argument. They’ve had enough screaming matches over the years behind closed doors (and one memorable fight in front of the team). Instead they sit in silence, sipping slowly.

“Do you trust me?”

“Always, sir,” Tseng answers quickly and without a second thought. “With my life.”

“With your heart?”

That gives him pause, and he raises an eyebrow at Rufus. “You’ve never asked for it.”

“You’ve never asked for mine but you’ve always had it. Without question. So, do I have yours?”

Tseng stares down at the glass flute in his hand. It’s a far cry from the crystal ones Rufus used to had, the champagne not quite as decadent, but it reminds him of the times before their lives were in danger, when Rufus ascended to President. A violent ascension and an equally violent and abrupt ruling. In some ways, he is still the President even if Reeve doesn’t give him the power and autonomy he truly wants. At least he is trying in his own misguided ways to make up for what his father – and him – did to the Planet. Reeve constantly pulling Rufus up on overstepping his boundaries will get old one day, and those arguments will come to a head at some point. For now, he can see Rufus is desperately trying to not burn all his bridges.

Finally, Tseng looks at him, taking in the neutral expression on Rufus’ face, but he can see his fingers are gripping the flute like it’s the only thing keeping him from getting up and walking out. This conversation was never going to be easy for either of them.

“I gave it to you a long time ago. I don’t intend on taking it back.”

  
Rufus relaxes at the words, and sits back, rubbing his thigh with one hand. “Good. I hope that’s a promise.”

Tseng finishes the glass quickly, coughing at the sharp sting of liquid and bubbles in his throat. “I’ve missed you,” he admits before he can second-guess himself, of how much honesty is too much. “I don’t…know when it became so hard to protect you and be your…mistress, for lack of a better word. I am trying to keep the two disconnected, to remain professional…” Trailing off, he sets the glass down on the floor, uncertain of when it became so hard to voice his thoughts. He never had any trouble with the nature of their relationship and his own personal feelings towards it. It always seemed straight forward, even when he was conflicted with strong emotions.

“Why do you have to choose? And mistress? Really, Tseng? All these years and you think I’m like my father? Keeping indiscretions out of the limelight?”

“Isn’t that what we were? Just a series of indiscretions?”

“Absolutely not. Not if you don’t want it to be. We can be _partners_ , Tseng. Together we can do so much good, truly make a difference. We’re in a new era, no one will focus on anything but our _actions_.”

To Tseng, it sounds more like a proposal than a business arrangement. Their business talks of the past were far quicker and clinical. And in the way he’s reclining in that relaxed white suit – a far cry from his attire during his presidency – Rufus looks more like he’s discussing buying a house in Costa del Sol.

“I thought we were partners.”

That makes Rufus drop the neutrality, to narrow his eyes, and Tseng steels himself for yet another unnecessary argument. “I’ve always had more power in this relationship than you. No matter the respect I have for you, both now and in the past, I’ve abused that power more than once and forced you to compromise your own ideals just for my own gain. Don’t think I’m unaware of what I’ve done. I’m trying to make our work _equal_ between us. You’re not just a Turk anymore, you’re my…”

Tseng waits for him to finish. He doesn’t know what they are, and it seems Rufus is at as much of a loss. “Director? Business partner?” It’s on the tip of his tongue to say ex-lover out of spite but he stops himself. Just because they haven’t touched in almost two years doesn’t mean he needs to act petty. Perhaps he’s spending too much time around Reno.

Rufus chuckles, and finishes his champagne, putting it on the table next to him. He reaches over and tucks a piece of hair behind Tseng’s ear, and Tseng leans into the touch with a soft sigh. He’s not felt a gentle touch since Valentine nursed him back to health, and he _longs_ for something to remind him that he’s still alive, that they still have something despite everything. “I’ve missed you,” he finally repeats, for lack of any other words.

“I’ve been here with you.”

Sometimes, he wonders if Rufus is deliberately obtuse just to get a rise out of people. “It’s not the same and you know it,” Tseng retorts, and Rufus grasps him by the chin, fingers digging into his jawline. It’s less gentle and more of reminiscent of their previous encounters and a hot flare of arousal spikes through him.

“At least I know the only deep penetration you’ve gotten lately is at the end of a sword.”

Tseng gapes at him for a moment before laughing hard. “Fuck you,” he grins, and Rufus lets go of his chin in favour of pulling him closer. He leans against him for a moment and cups the other man’s face in his hands. “ _Mister_ President,” he adds in a low husky tone, and Rufus groans low in his throat, eyes flashing dark.

“I don’t think I could ever tire of hearing you say that. I don’t think I could tire of _you_.”

The kiss they share speaks of the tenderness between them. Rufus parts his mouth, tongue tracing over Tseng’s lower lip, his teeth nipping lightly. Tseng lets his hand wander down Rufus’ body, settling on his slender hips to pull him onto his lap. He is gentler than he would have been in the past, conscious of how long it has been since they were last intimate. But Rufus straddles him all the same to settle flush against him. “This brings back memories,” he murmurs, moving his hands to sift through Tseng’s hair. They look at each other, and Tseng takes in the faint scaring on the side of Rufus’ face, of the difference in weight that’s settled on him. He’s thinner, the disease on top of his previous injuries ravaging his body, but it doesn’t deter from his elegant beauty.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

Rufus nods, and gets up off Tseng, stumbling a little as he steadies himself on his feet. Tseng reaches out and takes one of his arms to guide him. “I’m _fine_ ,” Rufus complains but accepts the help for once. He knows inherently that Rufus is no invalid, but they all got so used to helping him about their quarters that it has become habit to assist their leader.

Inside the bedroom he looks around. It’s so familiar to him even though he only ever passed out chair next to the bed after tending to Rufus. And yet, standing there watching as Rufus starts to sheds his jacket and starts to unbutton his shirt, he’s almost giddy at the endless possibilities racing through his mind. Tseng takes Rufus’ hands away and finishes the job himself, revealing the bare skin underneath. Fingertips tracing from his protruding collarbone and down his chest, pushing the shirt off his shoulders. It gets caught on his arms, and Rufus pulls back to unbutton the cuffs and slips it off and onto the floor.

The body presented to him is different and yet oh so familiar. Tseng immediately grabs Rufus by his biceps and pulls him close, lips pressed to his. They are unyielding at first until Rufus playfully bites his lip. It catches him by surprise and he hisses, letting Rufus deepen the kiss with his tongue playfully dancing along the bite mark. “Brat,” he murmurs, moving his hands down to wrap around Rufus’ wrists, pinning them behind his back.

“You love it,” Rufus responds against his mouth, moving back and falling back onto the back. Tseng lands on top of him with a grunt, and he lets go of his wrists, hurriedly shedding his own jacket and starting on his tie. Rufus reaches up and touches his hands, shaking his head. “Leave it on.” Chuckling, he complies, instead pulling it up over his collar and works on undoing his shirt. It’s easier without his gloves but given the apparent mood Rufus is in, maybe he should get them. Before he can vocalise it, Rufus’ hand is cupping his crotch, squeezing playfully.

“I can practically hear your brain working. Just hurry up.” It’s a pity he can’t take his time – he’s always enjoyed the slow reveal of bare skin awaiting him, but he also remembers how _long_ it’s been. They finish undressing and Rufus scoots up to lean against the headboard, looking as cocky as ever. He’s completely on display, and Tseng can’t stop himself leaning down and biting the inside of Rufus’ thigh. It earns him a loud shout of surprise, and Rufus swats him on the shoulder out of reflex. Tseng hides his grin against Rufus’ hip, kissing his way up.

Those hands reach out and grab him by the tie, pulling him back into a kiss. It’s more passionate this time, the two of them falling back into all-too familiar roles. He enjoys the power of being on top for a moment until Rufus starts to push the knot of his tie up to his throat. It’s loose for now, but Tseng knows what will happen when he gives his consent.

“How do you want it?” he asks quietly, kissing along Rufus’ jawline and nipping his earlobe gently. Rufus presses up against him and they both moan when their erections brush together. If he’s honest, he wants to be sinking into that tight heat that he’s missed so much, but he’ll take what he can get.

Rufus just leans his head back enough to indicate to the bedside table. “Lube’s in there. And those restraints you bought for my birthday that we never got to use.”

Tseng remembers, and he moves off Rufus to rummage through the top drawer. He finds the lubricant and black silk restraints – a single stainless silver ring connects the ribbons together, and he looks at the bars on the headboard. Except he wants to feel Rufus’ hands on him, and so he puts them back. “Not yet. Maybe later.”

“Promises, promises,” Rufus mutters under his breath, and Tseng turns back to him, reaching out to pinch his thigh. “Hey!”

*****

  
  
It’s over too quickly, and Tseng is left gasping into Rufus’ neck, shifting as he pulls out slowly and falls onto his back, catching his breath. Rufus just lays there panting, come and sweating covering his stomach and part of his chest. “Fuck. Why did we wait so long?” he manages to get out, hand reaching out blindly to grab Tseng’s.

“There were…other pressing matters?” Tseng murmurs, bringing their hands to his mouth to kiss Rufus’ knuckles. The sweat is cooling on his body and he’s starting to feel slightly itchy. He knows Rufus must feel worse, and he looks over at the man next to him. His hair is falling over his face, hiding one of his closed eyes, and he can’t help but lean over to kiss his cheek. “How long is everyone occupied for?”

“I think we’ll be lucky to get a day.”

Twenty-four hours is not nearly long enough for what Tseng has in mind but he will take what he can get.


End file.
